stargazing into empty skies
by lydia martins
Summary: "There are some promises that even I can't keep," Peter says, "There are some I don't want to keep." She glances at him, frowning. "Then why are you keeping them?" — PeterGwen


**author's note:** so i love andrew garfield and emma stone and spider man and i love pacey/pwen/whatever it's called, and after the new movie i just had to write this! this is post-movie.

i don't own _the amazing spider man_, although i'd buy emma stone if i could. ;)

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**stargazing into empty skies**  
peter/gwen

. . .

"i love you. i am who i am because of you. you are every reason, every hope, and every dream i've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, every day we are together is the greatest day of my life. i will always be yours.

—_ the notebook_, nicholas sparks

. . .

The Ancient Greeks and everyone that came afterwards thought that the stars held their destinies — everything was already planned by the stars, there was no changing anything. They'd consult the stars for guidance and hope and help.

Gwen considers herself to be a modern scientist. Science, it seems, could find the answer to any question that other methods — like religion — could not, but sometimes, when there was no one around and she wants to forget about life and fear and danger and the bad aspects of anything, she runs to the grassy field two miles away from her apartment.

When the world gets to be too much, she looks towards the stars and prays to whatever's up there — the Gods or the Heaven or Tom Cruise, whomever — for guidance, help, _anything_. It's kind of comforting, really, to sit on a grassy slope and watch the stars — some part of the universe that has remained unadulterated by human influence. She loves science, she really does, but she loves this one part — this natural part of the world — even more.

When she feels overwhelmed, she can just escape to the hill with the grassy slant with some peanut butter and a blanket and just _be_ — like the Beatles song. She can lose herself in the emerald blades and the royal blue sky.

But now — now there is no escape, not really. Her father is dead.

"Gwen." It's Peter. His voice curls up, tangible and soft, into the inky sky. She doesn't breathe. It's the closest he's been to her since he broke it off — all because of a stupid promise.

She wants to tell him to go away. She wants to kick him out for invading her space, which, for once, was completely her own. She wants to hug him. She wants to kiss him so hard, like that night on the balcony, until she sees stars even when she closes her eyes, until she can forget about being half-orphan and losing Peter.

"What do you want?" she looks up. He is in his Spider-Man costume, save the mask, and he has a black eye. She remembers cleaning up his wounds after Dr. Curt Connors got to him.

"Gwen — I — " he's stumbling over his words, as if he doesn't know what to say. "To be honest — I don't even know why I came here. To see you, I mean."

She closes her eyes, trying to stop the familiar burning sensation from rising within her. She will not cry, she won't. "Oh — well isn't that dandy, Peter."

He looks down, embarrassed. "I was taking care of something down in the suburbs and on my way back home, I realized that your car was there."

"So you _are_ stalking me." She smiles. It feels foreign and strange, like the curve of her lips upwards is something she hasn't done in a while.

"Damn — I've been caught." He mock scowls and kicks at a clump of grass.

She doesn't respond, but closes her eyes and prays for Peter to go away because he's the reason that she's here, anyway, and having him so close to her, knowing that he isn't hers — not anymore, because of some stupid promise — hurts. But another part of her wants him to stay.

He sits down. "Can I join you?"

Her lips curl upwards again and this time, the motion is a lot more fluid. "Will you leave if I say no?"

"Nope," he replies, popping the 'p'. He smiles at her like he used to — in the way that got her palms sweaty and her heart pumping, and then it's over. "Glad you know me so well."

She doesn't reply.

After a few moments, he stars picking at some grass clumps. "How are you? How's your mother? How's she taking all of this?"

This is usually the part where she says (read: lies) that everyone is fine — pretends like her life isn't falling apart at the seams right now — but she can't lie, not now. Not to Peter. "It's not okay — it's not okay," and suddenly, she's crying, but Gwen Stacey doesn't cry and Peter leans in and wraps his arms around her, even though they aren't together and it shouldn't feel as good as it does.

"I know — and it may not seem like it now, but it will become okay, it will," he says in a soothing voice, arms tightening around her. "I promise."

She hiccoughs. "And you always keep your promises, don't you?" There is a slight accusatory tone in her voice. He looks away.

"There are some promises that even I can't keep," Peter says, "There are some I don't want to keep."

She glances at him, frowning. "Then why are you keeping them?"

He leans in closer, their faces inches apart. She just wants to pull Peter's head down, to close that space between them. Her heart is beating loudly, so loudly that the whole world can hear it, but she doesn't care. "I don't know," he whispers and he grabs her hand.

"I still don't forgive you, you know?" she says, smirking up at him. "For everything. But this is a start."

"It's a start," he echoes, looking at her — right through the eyes and into her soul. "I like beginnings."

She cuddles into him again. She's missed this most about Peter — not the kissing, not the talks, but the way they could just sit without saying a word.

In a fairy-tale world, the superhero would get the damsel and everyone would live happily-ever-after. But this isn't a fairytale. Her father is dead. Curt Connors is in prison. A large part of the city is destroyed, but one thing all the movies and books did get right is the perfection of the ending. Sure, it may have not been ideal, but it is _theirs_ and that's all that mattered.

/

**fin**.

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**author's note ii:** I will _definitely_ write more about peter and gwen in the future, I absolutely love them more than MJ and Peter, Gwen is a much stronger female character, unlike Mary-Jane who just whined about her career and got taken hostage three times a movie – and Emma and Andrew have _waaay_ more chemistry (literally, haha geddit) than Tobey and Kirsten. And it's Emma Stone, 'nuff said. ;)

Please don't favourite or alert without leaving a review!

Madeline (overstreets)


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